#'it's simply a matter of invention and positive thinking :-)'

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[hanzajesthanza]

it is absolutely so weird to me to try to imagine a version of geralt that is like, my age. like, no. get back to being an old man

[kaixserzz]

The Fox, the Crow, and the Bunny.

ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore and Gn!Child!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ 2.4k words ┊ Fluff *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist | JLM Masterlist *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

something sweet. dedicated to @idyllic-affections thanks for writing my kaveh rq n this series is inspired by ur acc.. realized i strayed from the real purpose of this fic and made it too long, so just think of it as a 2 in 1 special lol,, (also hi sorry for using dottore he's like my muse and i love writing him) also i hope yall get the meaning of this shit lmao (ref to the scara quest tale)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: strictly platonic/familial, reader is 8 years old, basic dottore warnings, mentions of death, dissecting animals and injuries, implied dottolone (barely), a little ooc but it's canon to me

Dottore's office was once a sacred chamber inside the Fatui headquarters.

While not relatively as pristine as his laboratory, amidst the chaos, there was order. Everything was in its designated place, even though his desk was a nightmare to whoever laid eyes on it (spilled coffee too busy to clean, now dried onto the wood of his table, piles, and piles of documents and papers stacked haphazardly on one another, a disarray of pens and pencils occupying every available niche, and vials filled with who-knows-what dangerously teetering on the edge).

Hazards lurked at every turn within his office, presenting a far-from-presentable façade that seemingly clashed with his position as the 2nd of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. Yet, one might ponder, does the doctor truly concern himself with such matters?

No, not at all. He doesn't have the time to clean everything or keep them in such an organized state. He simply knows everything is in place, and the mess scarcely holds him back (he hires maids once in a while, when the mess gets too much, and in 1 out of 5 maids he hires only makes it out alive).

Yet, what truly imbued this room with a sense of sanctity? For within these walls, he unearthed his genuine solace and tranquility.

In this space, silence reigned supreme. Isolation was his companion, a cherished serenity he embraced. Here, his thoughts danced, inventions took form, and ideas flowed onto paper alongside intricate equations. Occasionally, he'd pass out on his desk and drool all over his papers. This room stood as a shelter inviolable, reserved solely for those few instances of urgency or the presence of a fellow Harbinger.

All other members of the Fatui instinctively bid their time, patiently awaiting his emergence from the sanctum of his office before venturing to approach him. For within its confines, the Doctor was impervious to disruption. No one disturbs the Doctor.

That was before you came along, of course.

The office, ill-suited for a child of your tender years, harbored a minefield of hazards. Within its walls lay various artifacts, concoctions, and intricate machinery, a perilous realm unfit for the innocent curiosity of youth. Regrettably, your presence inadvertently disrupted the serene harmony that had long enveloped this space, unsettling the Doctor who, by nature, dislikes abrupt shifts and deviations from what he was used to.

When you first arrived in his office (he didn't want you inside of it, after all, he wasn't exactly fond of children, but he had no choice) you were immediately injured after stepping onto a shard of glass that Dottore has completely ignored. You tried your very best not to cry for the sake of not irritating Dottore further, but he wasn't very gentle with your wound either.

He took note of keeping his vials away from the edge of his table.

Then a bunch of books topples over you. He puts them into the shelves now, and you helped him organize by using the Dewey Decimal System, to which you had read from a book.

Then, while he was explaining his recent idea (rather enthusiastically) to you, his hand accidentally slammed against his files and flew straight to your face. You also helped him organize his papers.

And then it was cleaning his desk, offering him DIY pencil holders you've made just for him. You've also invented a mug that prevents the liquid inside from spilling (he thinks it was a rather brilliant invention, he no longer has to worry about spilling on his desk).

And then it was putting his rather precarious possessions somewhere else, outside the vicinity of his office and far away from your grasp.

You were very eager to help him in any way possible, and for a child, you quite enjoyed receiving chores. Yet, your contentment was uncomplicated, drawn from the privilege of being granted entry to his treasure trove of knowledge, replete with a limitless collection of books, materials, and tools.

Dottore always thought that you'd be such a nuisance to him once you entered his office and sully the peace he has always known within his office's enclosed haven.

But he didn't expect to welcome your presence at all, on such short notice, too. (Deep inside, he felt a strange warmth in his chest whenever you'd tug on his coat, asking if he needed any assistance with organizing his office. He wonders what it was, though.)

So, here you were, amidst the symphony of pen strokes etching against paper, a solitary melody resonating within the confines of his office.

Contrary to his expectations, the calmness he believed would dissipate upon your arrival had, in fact, been amplified by leaps and bounds. As he observed from the corner of his eye, you reclined on your stomach, legs swinging idly behind you, immersed in a world of creativity. Strewn across the floor, an assortment of crayons bore testament to your artistic endeavors, while he diligently attended to the papers handed by the Fatui.

Then, as if hesitant to break the comfortable silence, you tried to catch his attention with a soft 'psst!', then covered your mouth with your tiny hand to suppress your childish giggles.

The corners of his lips twitch in irritance amusement as he turns his head toward you, his pen on the desk. You broke into a much bigger grin and held your drawing close to your chest, not wanting to expose it just yet. "Hey, Dotdot!" You whispered to him, and he can't help but roll his eyes smile at the nickname you've given him. "Can I show you what I drew?"

Dottore emitted a contemplative hum as if grappling with the decision of whether to engage or remain absorbed in his thoughts. Your evident impatience manifested in a pout, prompting his response. "Well, fine," He yielded, beckoning you forth. You beamed brightly as you swiftly rose to your feet and bounded toward him, your landing generating a muted grunt from him. A steadying hand rested on the desk, enabling him to regain his composure, after which he settled your giggling form comfortably within the space between his legs. "Now then," He put his hands on your shoulder, "What is it you wished to share?"

With another giggle from your ceaseless childish amusement, you gave him the piece of paper. Big, round eyes sparkling against the light of the room looked up at him expectantly. Dottore received the drawing from you, his gaze lingering over its details, drawn into a moment of shared curiosity and wonder.

It was him, and you, holding hands, depicted with earnest effort and the imaginative touch of your youthful artistry. Around you were a bunch of other versions of him, his segments, though you've only drawn five (since they were the only ones who have interacted with you so far). Each had their names labeled beneath them, but Dottore absolutely adores that you've labeled him as 'Dotdot' instead (you've also drawn Pantalone holding your other hand and labeled him as 'Pants', adorned both figures with encircling hearts).

"Truly remarkable artwork," He stated with a smile, his words accompanied by the sound of your jubilant cheers, "This masterpiece deserves a place of honor, a spot where all can admire it. I can already imagine the joy it will bring to the other segments once they lay eyes on it."

"Really!?"

"Of course, I do believe they enjoy your company, little bunny."

As he carefully set the drawing on his table, your inquisitive gaze caught his attention. With a tilt of your head, a gesture he knew all too well, you asked him a question, "Why do you call me that?"

"Hm? Call you what?" Dottore grabbed you gently and settled you onto his desk. Positioned face to face, at eye level, his intent was clear—to engage with you as both an adult and a child, a balance you seemed to relish.

"Bunny! You call me bunny lots,"

"Oh? Do you not like it?"

You vigorously shook your head, "No no, I love it! I get called nicknames, but they're all mean." You furrow your brow as you reminisced, pouting at the awful memories. But then you broke into a big smile again, "But yours is new and cute! So, why do you call me that?"

Dottore's grin widened, revealing his sharp teeth, a sight that enthralled you. Your hands instinctively moved to his cheeks, your eyes filled with wonder, and he welcomed the touch wholeheartedly. "Ahh, ever so curious, aren't you, little bun?" He teased playfully, giving your nose a gentle boop! with his finger, and your giggles were a delightful response. "You see, I call you bunny because you embody its spirit—small, swift, and an endless source of vibrant energy.

You also love to hop onto people a lot."

"I love giving surprise hugs! I'm too small, so a jump, so I can wrap my arms around them a bit higher!" You huffed as he chuckled at your explanation. "What are you, then? What animal?"

"Oh? I've never thought about what kind of animal I'd be... Hmmm..." Dottore mused for a while, his expression thoughtful. Eventually, he arrived at a decision. "A fox, I think. Crafty, shrewd, and sly. A creature that prowls with a purpose and possesses those distinct, sharp teeth." As he said that, he grins once more to show his sharp teeth, then lunges for your finger, mimicking a bite, prompting you to gasp and pull back with a joyful squeal.

"And speaking of bunnies..." His tone took on a mischievous edge, causing your eyes to widen in anticipation. Suddenly, he swooped in, grabbing your legs and lifting you high into the air. "I might just gobble you up!" Dottore's playful pretense of chomping down on you elicited a cascade of laughter from you. You pushed at his head, trying to escape his 'gobbling' jaws, your legs kicking playfully as you enjoyed the moment.

"I don't think you're a fox, Dotdot!" You quipped, retaking your seat on his desk. Playfully swinging your legs, you mused aloud, a soft humming accompanying your contemplation.

Dottore raised an intrigued eyebrow, "Oh? And what am I in the eyes of my little bunny? Perhaps something more fearsome?" He inquired, looming over you in an effort to intimidate you.

Instead, your eyes lit up brightly, and you joyfully clapped your hands together. "Oh, I've got it! A crow!" You exclaimed with a triumphant smile.

A bemused frown replaced his grin as he processed your unexpected response. "...A crow?" He echoed, clearly puzzled by your choice. "Of all animals?"

And you merely smile at him, giggling at his confused reaction, "Mhm! Yeah! A crow that talks on and on and on." Your hands followed your words, almost hitting him in the face, "A crow that is death and prey over rotting corpses, but a crow that saved me! I thought Dotdot was an angel, but angels don't have black feathers, scary smiles, or red eyes."

Your words painted a vivid picture of your perception, a whimsical and deeply personal perspective on his nature. Dottore nods along, intrigued, as you rambled your thoughts to him, not even chastising you for grabbing the beak of his mask and playing with it.

"You're a crow! You're very smart, and clever, and creative! You're scary to other people, but not to me! I love corvids, I used to feed them bits of animal after I dissect them, and they always bring me something shiny. They were my only friends, and now you're my friend too!"

He doesn't understand the gentle warmth that began to unfurl within his chest as he remained attentive to your words. While unfamiliar, this sensation wasn't entirely unwelcome... "I beg to differ, my dear bunny. I am unmistakably a fox,"

"Then you're a crow pretending to be a fox!" You pout, stubbornly crossing your arms. "I think crows are way cooler than foxes. They can fly! Plus, you can't call yourself a fox when you resemble a crow more than a fox!" You pointed out, a triumphant smirk on your lips.

Well, you do have a point. He does wear a beaked mask, coupled with a bird-like shoulder embellishment bedecked in exquisite black feathers.

"Should I then consider donning attire that better befits a fox?"

At the notion, you fixed him with a mock glare, your cheeks puffing out in an adorable display of discontent. "Nooooo! I prefer Mr. Crow!" you protested with a playful whine, punctuating your words by delivering gentle punches to his shoulders with your tiny hands.

He chuckles at your small tantrum, and he swiftly gathers you into his embrace. Your arms naturally encircled his neck as he rose from his seat, carrying you toward the door, your precious drawing clutched in your hands. "Very well, very well, my dear Mr. Crow it shall remain," He conceded with a playful tone, his steps filled with an easy camaraderie.

Victoriously, you shot him a smug grin, to which he rolled his eyes at.

"Do you wanna know something, Mr. Crow?" You mutter in his ear as he walks past one of his segments.

"Hm? What is it?"

You made sure to whisper it very quietly, hoping the other segments won't hear you. "Between you and me, I think that your younger segments are like rats!"

He didn't know what came over him, he released a hearty, resounding laugh, its volume surprising not just you but also the other segments who happened to be present, each momentarily taken aback by their own affairs. Such an outpouring of mirth was rare for him (only when he was inside his dark, cool lab, alone with experiments).

A sense of pride swelled in your chest as you grinned widely, his laughter infectious as you burst into a fit of giggles. It was a scary laugh, maybe it was just naturally like that, but to you, it sounded very happy. "They bit me once! I was just poking their face."

"Perhaps give them a treat before you approach them," He says, calming down as he continues his trek toward your room. "This gesture might just soften their demeanor."

"What, like cheese?"

"Oh, little bun, that'll drive them even more mad once they found out you called them rats."

You share another grin with him, finding a cozy spot to rest your chin upon his shoulder in contentment, "Good! I think they're funny when their faces turn red."

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I’ll appreciate it very very much! Don’t repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[hells-wasabii]

Hi!!

I would like to request Sir Pentious X Fem!HotelGuest!Reader who is his #1 fan headcanons? Like, while he was really ‘evil’ with his inventions and turf wars and things like that, the reader would always be boasting about how she was his #1 fan and how great he was, and when he arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, she would swoon over him and always follow him around like a puppy?

Thank you!! :)

A/N:Alriiight this is the last solo Sir Pentious in my inbox, the rest are prompts with multiple characters, which hopefully I’ll get back into a steady flow of writing

Character: Sir Pentious

Type: Headcanons (Sir Pentious x #1 fan fem!reader, Fluff)

Oh, you knew what you were doing when you showed up at the titular hotel, didn’t you? They were hardly secretive about the sinners that they had within their walls. You knew he was their newest guest at their little rehabilitation. It was only a matter of time really, before you made your appearance. This was your big shot, after all! You just had to meet him!

Even when no one really knew who he was, you were right there in his corner(figuratively). You would root for him from the sidelines when he would join in the local turf wars, making sure to get just close enough to watch your favorite evil genius in action without putting yourself in danger.

Sir Pentious was taken aback when he found out that you even knew who he was! He really couldn’t believe it! Him? Having a fan as dedicated as you? Oh, he could positively cry! (and he did, on more than one occasion.)

He’s also positively ecstatic to have someone to talk to about his inventions! No one had ever shown such an interest in his current or past works, so the two of you definitely had plenty of things to talk about.

It was only a matter of time really before he began to reciprocate your feelings too. At first his own feelings frightened him, though not in the way you may think. he’s afraid that he might be mistaking gratitude for your companionship but after a heart-to-heart talk with Vaggie of all people. As it turns out she had dealt with some pretty similar feelings herself with Charlie.

He has a grand plan to ask you out too! Social interaction may not be his strong suit, but if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s inventing! He uses this to his advantage, running through several ideas, prototypes, and eventually small test rounds. He doesn’t stop until he’s sure it's perfect. And soon, he’s ready! Little does he know that all he really had to do was simply ask and you would have said yes regardless. You had already loved him for some time, after all. Hadn’t you?

No one was really surprised when the two of you announced that the two of you were together. Though maybe To the very end, you’d always be his biggest fan, and he was yours.

[bonefall]

I like both ideas, bc it provides an opportunity for the Dark Forest to evolve in some way; I really like the idea of Curl taking lead and trying to make the Dark Forest cats united (not for any real GOAL, but bc they're still clan cats dammit, and separated in little pockets they'll never be able to grow).

The camp one is kinda obvious- it was a place of horror, but they need a place to stay. She never came too close to the place until she realized that if she wanted to unite the cats into a group, they needed a camp. And Starclan (she hisses at the irony) knows she'll never do it on her own. She enters, and it terrifies her- before she knows it shes backing away and fleeing. Over time though, she makes it further in, stays a bit longer. She finds the dens are still pretty decent, and that her heart feels a lot lighter as she rips down and destroys the cage. She's elated to find hierloom tools in the camp eventually- some are broken, but can be fixed. She purrs as she thinks how happy Darkstripe would be to have some proper cooking tools. This was a place of fear and death, yes, but it doesn't always have to be that way, does it?

The dogs less so but hear me out. At first she is haunted by the dogs, downright terrified- the gnashing of teeth, the frenzied barks. It's not even anything she can think or dwell on; as soon as she hears the howling and barking, she's immediately running away, fleeing as far as her paws take her. She knows she'll never actually die here, but she's still so, so scared. Maybe she comes to the conclusion on her own, or maybe someone else points it out, but eventually she realizes what you mentioned. She saved her CHILD- she should be PROUD, not scared. This is her greatest moment- her death an irrelevant footnote compared to her baby's life. Idk *exactly* how it should go, but she confronts her fear, and manages to 'tame' it. She is no longer afraid, this illusion holds no power over her. Either they fade away and just stop existing without Curl's fear to feed it, maybe they turn docile and harmless, idk. No matter what though, i have a feeling that something like THAT will catch the eye of some DF cats, sorta like a Tiny to Scourge deal. "She got rid of her land mar" into "She destroyed the land mar" to "She KILLED her land mar"- even the first one has to gain her some respect frok the others, and gives her a solid footing to try and get cats together and united.

Ask was sent a while ago, and I've been looking at it since then. It's a really good pitch, and I had things to do, so I just passively chewed it for a while. Both ideas are really good; so I was trying to think of some way to get them together.

I think I've got a good thought now;

I'll make Curlfeather's Land Mar dog related.

But they're not the same dogs that actually attacked her (which, depending on how the arc goes, might ACTUALLY be apparitions from the Dark Forest which Ashfur dragged out for his schemes. Specifically they'd be Brightheart's nightmares.)

Curlfeather's Hounds are blind. They hunt completely through "smell," and they smell her fear

I can keep her Land Mar being quite unique by actually having it follow her. Instead of it being a place she's trapped in, she's haunted by random dog events which will inevitably interrupt any plans she makes.

So she's perpetually close to making the group that she wants, uniting these demons just because it's what she deserves, but she is forced to flee when her hounds find her.

The camp she ends up using doesn't have to be her OWN Land Mar; I have another cat who actually has a 1:1 camp as theirs.

Morningstar, the deposed leader of ThunderClan who refused to allow his cats to fight. His is simply his camp, on the day where Pearstar invented the Right to Challenge and killed him for his position.

Morningstar's also HATED in the Dark Forest, because of his pacifism. Thinking about it, it's actually a great parallel for what I'm planning with Curlfeather!

She has disdain for her father because she sees him as weak. Reedwhisker swearing loyalty to The Kin after being tortured was her catalyst for believing he needed to die; that RiverClan would have a sniveling, careless leader.

So if it's Morningstar she ends up developing a bond with, they can help each other.

Morningstar can make her realize that her terrifying death by the dogs is something she can be proud of. That it isn't something to fear and revile, but a sign that when she was forced to choose between love and ambition, she chose love.

And Curlfeather can see that maybe people like Morningstar, who she'd always seen as weak, have wisdom she'd never considered. Uniting these cats isn't about power or recognition; it's just about helping to make everyone's lives better.

I can even keep the "empty camp" idea. Stepping into Morningstar's gloomy Land Mar, setting a little fire just to help with the mist, and realizing it's not all that bad. There's old tools laying strewn about, the dens are all in working order. We can make a proper home here, if we let it be.

There's probably a cage there because of Ashfur, maybe it's the one that he made the demons toss Rootspring into. Maybe I'll have the demons eventually trick Curlfeather's Sighthounds into Deadfrost's Labyrinth, if Shredtail's still around. He double-died in canon but I wouldn't be too opposed to killing someone else in his stead.

She'll also have to prove herself to the other demons. Most of them are pretty wary of "leader-types" after what happened with Tigerstar. Ironically the closest thing they have to a "leader" is Darkstripe because his soups are so good. If he doesn't like your vibe, you're cut off from the "Social Circle."

I need to make some sort of pun out of Rings of Hell and Social Circle. Social Ring of Hell.

[jakeowen]

pls talk about homeschooling (genuinely interested)

so ok here’s the thing. i was a montessori kid who went on to receive a private progressive education through college. i think progressive education is wonderful and important. my dad was a montessori teacher and i spent four years working in education access inside an under-resourced high school (including pandemic years). the reason i mention this is that i do believe that mainstream education (both public and private schools) is failing kids and ultimately society. i have a lot of sympathy for parents who want a higher-caliber education for their kids and don’t know where to get it besides at home. one of my best friends was homeschooled because his parents (both professors) couldn’t find a school they were comfortable sending him to, and he turned out very intelligent and perfectly ok, if weird. i’ve also seen other positive examples of homeschooling, including a homeschool program at a nature preserve i worked at and homeschool that incorporates the occasional class at a local high school or community college or what have you. all this to say, i don’t think all motives for homeschooling are evil and i don’t think every single child who’s been homeschooled has been mistreated or denied positive social opportunities or whatever. however, all that said, even the best, highest-quality homeschooling should not be fucking legal.

after i was done working at a school, i went on to work at an organization serving unhoused youth and also teens in dcf custody, so i’ve seen a lot of shit, way more than enough to make me firmly believe that children are a uniquely vulnerable and marginalized population who are at high risk for exploitation. and the vast vast majority of exploitation and abuse happens inside the home. frankly you only need to meet one kid whose “homeschooling” was religious indoctrination designed to teach them to submit to their father raping them every night to be ready to burn the entire practice down. children are safest when they are part of the community, when they have access to multiple and varied points of view and responsible, caring adults representing those points of view. no child should ever be wholly at the mercy of their parents or any other single entity. it is simply not safe, and even if it were, it’s not healthy for a child’s cognitive development to only be exposed to one ideology, no matter how much or how little i agree with the particular ideology. part of healthy growth and development is the ability to integrate or discern different perspectives—it’s how you develop a bullshit detector, it’s how you learn to form your own opinions, and if you don’t build that skill in youth you are more susceptible to exploitation and indoctrination as an adult.

not all homeschool parents are fundamentalists who limit the perspectives their children can be exposed to. but the practice of homeschooling allows for this. the practice of homeschooling allows for abusive parents to lock their kids in cages and starve them and get away with it because there’s nobody to notice. any practice that provides a safe cover for the worst kind of abuse and exploitation is not a practice worth keeping, even if it does have the potential to work out well for a few kids.

the good news is that we actually already invented a way for children to get educated: it’s called school, and it exists free of charge in every community in the country. if you’re worried about the quality of your kids’ education, you can get involved! you can run for school board or join the pta/pto. you can also seek out or provide educational enrichment opportunities for your child that incorporate whatever you think they’re not getting at school. sunday school is a classic example of religious education supplementing school. my parents discussed current events with me, asked my opinion on things, shared theirs, and honestly answered my questions about other approaches/beliefs, and i learned a lot from that. even better than laying out enrichment opportunities for your kid, ask what THEY want to learn or feel like they’re not getting at school, and honor their autonomy by finding that for them or helping them find it. education does not begin and end at school, but it does not and cannot begin and end with parents either.

[steviestits]

In The Family Way - Part 2.1

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Background Argyle/Jonathan Rating: T (E in later chapters, the part after this one to be precise) Summary: The Munson family has never had the typical values that most modern Americans have as they find thrill in all that's mysterious and spooky. Steve Harrington, a black widow omega, hadn't known this when he mated with the family's eldest alpha, Eddie, and thought that he'd be another easy mark that he could kill to inherit the millions that Eddie owned. However, not only do all his murder attempts fail, but Eddie actually enjoys them! And to make matters worse, the alpha wants to try for a pup! Steve has to find a way to off Eddie for good, before he gets pregnant and maybe actually falls for the death-crazed alpha. (Addams Family Values au set in the Omegaverse after the events of the movie with Steve as Debbie and Eddie as Fester) Trigger Warning: Attempted Murder as a love language, Mpreg

(Link to previous part)

The first time Steve saw Eddie Munson was on the cover of Forbes magazine, covering the bout of amnesia he had before he regained his memories and his wealth returned. It was a dry article about a riches to rags back to riches again, but Steve did gleam two important pieces of information after reading the piece. The first was that Eddie Munson was as rich as an alpha could get, even richer than Steve’s two previous inconsiderate (and very dead) mates. Then the second was that Eddie was a complete idiot who answered every question in a strange, off-putting manner that made Steve certain that he’d never been with an omega, as one would run in the other direction the moment he opened his mouth. In other words, Eddie was desperate for a gentle touch, making him an easy mark.

Steve decided to play the role of affectionate caregiver after a few weeks of doing research and learning that the Munsons were having trouble keeping a nanny. From the moment he showed up on their doorstep, the obviously virgin alpha was putty in Steve’s hand. All Steve had to do was bat his eyes in the right way to have Eddie falling all over himself with an eagerness to please that Steve would’ve found cute if he actually cared about that sort of thing.

Everything had been going to plan. Sure, the children had caught onto his fake interest in the eldest alpha of their pack, but his position as nanny gave him an extra amount of leverage, allowing him to convince Argyle and Jonathan that the two wanted to go to summer camp. It had worked perfectly, and the kids were whisked away almost the next day, but even without them, Steve hadn’t foreseen what would happen on their honeymoon.

Eddie was apparently in destructible! Steve had planned to electrocute him in the tub of their suite to make it seem like an accident, only the bastard survived. No, not just survived, the fucker enjoyed it! He even thanked Steve for trying to make the vacation more fun for him, as if Steve hadn’t obviously tried to murder him by dropping a whole stereo into the water with him!

It only got worse from there. Every murder attempt failed and was met with enthusiastic praise from the alpha, who thought Steve was spoiling him. The more Steve tried, the more it became clear that he’d clearly made a mistake in thinking that he could simply do away with his mate like he did with his two previous ones. He thought to try to do away with the whole family. Surely, he’d be able to kill one of them if he tried to get them all at once, but they only welcomed Steve as a fellow Munson when his attempt ultimately failed, as well.

That didn’t mean Steve was going to give up, though. He wasn’t a quitter. Every day, he went up to the attic to try to think of new and inventive ways to murder the alpha and claim the Munson fortune for his own. He tried every combination of poisons he could find and caused accident after accident, even going so far as to try to stab Eddie in order to pass it off as a mugging gone wrong, only he still survived!

Even now, Steve had cut Eddie’s breaks before the alpha had gone out to visit his brother, but he returned in one piece, despite running into a lamppost on the way back. It was getting to the point where Steve thought that maybe he shouldn’t make it look like an accident. Maybe he’d just chop the bastard into tiny pieces then bury him under concrete after constructing a new swimming pool and guest house in the backyard.

Though, that would have to wait, as Steve was currently relaxing in bed, winding down for the day after another string of failures. He was reading his favorite fashion magazine and had just turned the page to check up on the latest fashion trends when a squeaking caught his attention. Steve glanced up to see that Eddie had opened the door to the bedroom and was nervously making his way inside, wringing his hands.

Whatever the alpha had to say, Steve didn’t care. He returned his attention to his magazine, which usually signaled to the other that he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Eddie didn’t leave, however, he continued to stand in the doorway of the omega’s private bedroom, so Steve decided to ignore him, hoping that Eddie would get the message to go away on his own.

“My love,” Eddie called. “My beloved mate. I don’t mean to bother you, my sweet pet, but I was hoping that I could ask you something.”

“I’m a little busy,” Steve replied with a scowl.

Steve continued to read the article that declared that pastels were last season. Obviously, the writer didn’t know what they were talking about, and Steve didn’t know how the editor could allow such blatant lies to be published. It was clear that neither were qualified to be employed at such a prestigious fashion magazine. He doubted the two would be fired if he called, but he figured he could do the firing himself with a well-placed car bomb.

“I know, sweetheart. That’s why it won’t take a moment of your time.”

Steve glanced up reluctantly from his magazine. “Spit it out then.”

“I was wondering if I could pleasure you this evening. I’ve been practicing. I swear I’ve gotten better. It won’t be a repeat of our honeymoon, I promise.”

Raising an eyebrow, Steve stared at his mate curiously before he said, “Fine, knock yourself out.” Then he went back to reading his magazine. He remembered their honeymoon very clearly as the virgin alpha had no idea what to do with a young omega like himself, so Steve ended up doing most of the work that night. Steve honestly didn’t believe that Eddie had improved, but he figured that he’d fulfill his marital duties if it allowed him to finally finish reading.

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.2

[xjulixred45x]

The Collector(The Owl House) and Platonic! Reader...

but with a small detail.

Reader has a complicated family life, she comes from a family where she is constantly neglected (either due to family problems or simply her parents are like the Blights, too focused on their reputations to give her adequate attention) and that makes her a very dependent girl of her imagination but also quite lonely.

I think it would be especially sad if we are talking about a Blight Reader. since she sees her sibilings having interactions and friends while she cannot join because she is smaller and has problems socializing (': adding to that that she is too young for Odalia to give her a decent "use" to give her attention and Alador...it's Alador.

Imagine that JUST WHEN IT LOOKS LIKE THE END OF THE WORLD is when Reader ends up having something like a "friend."

If we go with the Blight reader, it is much more obvious how the reader and The Collector met, Odalia serving as his "mom" WOULD HAVE THE NERVE to offer the reader as a better playmate (trying to have favoritism) and leaves the reader reader alone with this child with god-like powers.

Now, reader didn't expect the collector to be so...innocent, he acted like a child her age, MAXIMUN. Besides that he was really interested in the game ideas she had to offer. For this reader to hear that someone is even willing to listen to what she wants to say is a MIRACLE, but putting it into practice and encouraging it? is this a dream?

They are both children extremely deprived of touch and interaction for a long time, so surprisingly, the reader ended up really enjoying her stay in the Archives with the collector and King, whether playing "the owl house" all together, board games that the reader invention, flying on the little flying stars, etc.

The reader definitely had a change of look just like King and Odalia, with a star-studded outfit and everything, although I think the collector lets her personalize it. and he definitely won't let Odalia intervene in the reader's clothes, with the excuse that her "suggestions" are too boring.

Tea parties with puppets! Yes, it's a bit creepy, but hey, they're better off there than down there with Belos (after what the reader secretly heard from her sister, he sounds like a bad guy). apart from the fact that low gravity is fun.

I think that one of the games that they could play the most could be a slightly more extreme version of "rescue the princess" where either a reader or a puppet is the "damsel in distress", King is the great Dragon and the Collector/reader are the knights. Don't worry though! Even if reader is who has to be the lady in distress, she will not be in real danger.

Although if the reader gets hurt (whether from playing or simply due to clumsiness) it means a DAY FREE FROM GAMES for everyone. Although they also play doctor and take care of the reader, maybe they play board games to avoid getting bored.

The Collector definitely feels jealous when Odalia tries to talk to the reader for any reason (probably to have a better position), and sometimes that causes him to give her more work like arranging the puppets they use when they play The Owl House (ironically this could make Odalia see what a bad mother she is being when she sees that a mini space god is better at her job than her).

Now there is no limit to the reader's creativity, no matter how silly or strange the idea for the new game is, he wants to hear it! He always has something positive to get out of even the "worst" ideas (for him that doesn't exist).

Sometimes he has trouble understanding which reader has to sleep and rest more than him and King, but they explain it to him with apples and pears and he more or less understands the concept of three meals a day and 8 hours of sleep (that was how easy it was, how difficult it was for King to explain to TWO CHILDREN why the reader SHOULD NOT eat only sweets).

I imagine that the reader sleeps in the same "room" as the Collector and King, in an extra bed and her own accessories. Maybe the reader even has stuffed animals of abominations (that remind her a little of her family) that she lends time to time to Collie (did you think she wouldn't use that nickname? ha) sometimes keeps them for herself because she's nostalgic, other times she's detached or even angry and gives them to him for several nights.

I can definitely see the Collector being pretty angry at the Blight siblings if he had gotten to know them in a different context, like "how dare you make my best friend CRY?" and it would definitely require a lot of hard work from King and the reader together so that he wouldn't "break" them out of rage.

King knows there's not much point in trying to convince the reader to help him in his plan against the collector, he understands where she's coming from, having someone who takes her seriously and motivates her is a dream come true! It is thanks to this that he sees the Collector more as a sad child and not as someone so terrifying..

After "Raine" lies to the Collector about King wanting to hurt him, he most likely also becomes clingier with the reader (and slightly more protective).

I can even see the reader teaming up with him when they play their "favorite games" against Eda, Luz and King, even if they coordinate well they can't help but lose in one way or another😅

The reader definitely empathizes a lot with the collector when he tells his story and how his brothers simply put him aside, causing him to be imprisoned, but she also begins to reflect and realize that, well, not everything is a game, but she wants them to be friends.

After the events of the season finale, you can be sure that the reader's family is trying SO hard to make up for the damage done (especially Amity and Alador) and that they are not so sure how to feel about the baby of the house being lost. she made friends with an almost god😅

Collie, now being PAINFULLY aware of the reader's mortality, is much gentler with the games when he comes to visit (especially because, well, you know, getting hurt when you're little isn't the same as when you're big) and in general they grow up. together to learn to accept more friends whenever they are:'3

AHHGGG I NEEDED THIS. Maybe I'll do a version with a father/mother! reader, we'll see.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[prefrontal-bastard]

I have a theory that one of the main significant differences between "neurotypical" brains and other neurotypes, is that neurotypical folks get their dopamine from the act of completing tasks, whereas other neurotypes may not.

For me, I get my dopamine from the process of discovery that happens during tasks—completing the task itself is not where I derive a sense of satisfaction from.

If my theory is correct, then is makes total sense why neurotypical folks can basically checklist their way into success: Checking off the box is what feels gratifying, so it's just a matter of lining up a gummy-bear trail of tasks to complete that results in their desired long-term outcomes.

And because neurotypicals also make up the majority of people (which makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint), this would also explain why the way our society operates revolves around completing tasks and following schedules, from schools to businesses to all forms of organization tips and tricks I've seen online. The checklists are not just a task-organization tool—they're also the incentivizing force.

But I need to let y'all know though, that this modality is a sysiphean nightmare for me, as someone who's neurodivergent.

Like I said, I get the dopamine from figuring shit out and learning how a thing works. I have a lot of skills and a lot of understanding of hidden clockwork of things for this reason. If I feel positively motivated to complete a task, it's simply because it's needed in order for me to discover something. It's tangential to the process.

Recently I've been figuring out how to optimize my schedule and the way I get shit done to account for this mechanic of discovery, instead of trying to coerce myself into believing that I should enjoy doing tasks for the sake of doing them. I don't. Be nice if I did but here we are. But this doesn't mean that I can't find other ways to derive gratification from completing them—it just can't be the way that works for the majority.

The pitfall though is that I'm basically trying to invent a methodology for this that doesn't rely on the mechanic of "getting dopamine from completing the task" as the driving force behind it. Every sort of thing I see online doesn't provide any other incentive it seems. (It also doesn't help that there's this narrative floating around, that people who don't enjoy completing tasks are simply unmotivated or undisciplined. I could say the same about people who are not interested in gutting the clockwork of how everything works, and it would be just as flippant.)

I'm sure there's a lot of other neurotypes out there that get their dopamine from places other than the ones I've mentioned, and I have a theory it correlates to what was successful in hunter-gatherer societies. But I think I'll leave that for another post.

[nesiacha]

Propaganda mediatic around Tallien and french revolution

I fully understand that certain figures of the French Revolution are preferred over others who are less liked. It's a matter of preference. I myself have a very cultured friend who is a fan of certain royalists from this period like Olympe de Gouges, although I also admire the character in a certain way and deplore the sexism of that era which excluded her (such as the fact that she totally defends Louis XVI), but I've always enjoyed debating with this person, who is so respectful of others' opinions, very knowledgeable, and well-versed in the subject. Of course, the difficulty lies in not trying to defend the golden legend or the black legend.

It's another thing entirely to invent completely grotesque or even false facts to glorify one figure of the French Revolution and destroy another. In the grotesque episode of "Les Femmes de la Révolution Française" from "Secret d'Histoire," which was actually sexist (I" love" the fact that in this show, which claims to want to glorify women, they talked about the term "demi-mondaine" for women, when will there be an equivalent term for men, or the way paternalistic that someone call Olympe de Gouges the "little" Gouges ), there were also very serious errors or lies, take your pick.

To insinuate that Marat was a dictator when he was simply a deputy who was elected by universal suffrage, a journalist whose recommendations were not heeded, and who was arrested and brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal though acquitted according to the rules, what a funny dictator, I've never seen anything like that from a dictator before.

Furthermore, under what conditions would he have pulled off his coup d'état? The story continues in the next episode, I suppose, even though so far no historian has found any trace of Marat's coup d'état. I imagine the show will clarify that (or not). Under these conditions, I will address Tallien. They try to present him as heroic in the face of Thermidor when in reality everything was prepared for the theater of Thermidor, which was actually more anti-democratic than they let on and not out of the courage of this individual. They say it was Theresia's letter that motivated him to enact Thermidor when in reality it's because Fouché and his gang, of which he was a part, committed the worst atrocities during the French Revolution, and he wanted to escape the punishment that would rightly fall upon him and his friends and try to regain political "purity" by pinning everything on those who were to be executed (he later demanded the head of Billaud Varennes to further absolve himself). There are other motives regarding Thermidor that have nothing to do with the Convention wanting to get rid of a tyrant (Robespierre has faults but not those of a dictator or tyrant) or that they were fed up with the guillotine (the guillotine continued to function after Thermidor and the Convention had voted overwhelmingly for the creation of the Revolutionary Tribunal, arrests, the Law of Suspects). One day I'll write a more detailed piece on what I think because it's very complex, but you can watch "Robespierre: la Terreur et la Vertu" with English subtitles, it gives a better understanding of these events.

Tallien engaged in lucrative business, arresting the richest in Bordeaux so they would hand over all their money to him for personal use. Clearly not an upright man, but very serious. His lucrative business leads me to see two possibilities. Either he plundered honest people in difficult times under the pretext that they were rich and risked ending up with nothing for his personal profit, all while abusing his position, which is generalized extortion. Or he knowingly let suspicious individuals escape in exchange for money (should we recall that some suspicious Frenchmen betrayed France by handing it over to Toulon or Dumouriez), and imposed dechristianization not out of anger like Momoro, for example, but for his political career and to flatter himself, which is worse (sorry for comparing a man like Momoro to an individual like Tallien, they are truly incomparable). Later, he joined the muscadins, among other merry groups.

In any case, it's very serious, and whatever one might say about Robespierre, he had every right to be angry. Tallien is a political turncoat and bloody as Barras (I hate Ridley Scott's Napoleon for destroying the French Revolution and glorifying Barras, among others). The difference between Tallien, Barras, and Fouché is that Tallien completely failed, and an unpopular opinion perhaps, but I'm glad to see he suffered so much; it's well-deserved karma for all the wrong he did.

P.S: I love that the show "Secret d'Histoire" shows Thermidor as a great day for prisoners, as if they don't care about arbitrary arrests after this event (including the arrests of Albertine Marat, Simone Evard, Thuillier found mysteriously hanged, the fact that some political prisoners had to wait a few months after Thermidor to be released).

[numericalbridge]

One headcanon that i just can't agree with is the idea that Darius would/should just stay at home post canon and care only about Hunter and Eber, at best other close friends and whoever he is shipped with, but not about anyone or anything else.

Like, yeah, obviously there are people who are the closest to him, and i definitely think he would need to take a break and revaluate his position as the former Coven Head and take a real vacation for once, but Darius is just so flanderized in the fandom into one direction or another, and i just don't vibe with it. And yes, i understand that sometimes it's simply the result of what people want to focus on in fanworks, but i've also seen it spelled out as headcanons in general, like 'oh, Darius hates all the kids for real and only Hunter is the exception', or 'Darius actually can't stand other people other than his loved ones' (and not in the sense that he is easily annoyed, or it is difficult for him to interact with others, but fully, for real).

First, I am pretty sure Dana herself had said in one interview that Darius wants to care about his loved ones but also to help others in general. And you can see it in the show too - Raine says specifically that he was 'protecting' them even though they were not close at the time of ER, Darius laments how 'we' (the rebels) were too late during the DoU, hinting that he always wanted to save the whole Isles ("but he gave up for Eber" you might say, well, my first meta was about what i think of 'Darius easily chose Eber over the Isles' interpretations - Post). So in one way or another he probably would want to help others post canon as well.

Second, he clearly has several interests and, of course, his passion for abominations that he would likely want to continue to persue. He also seems to be quite happy to conduct Raine's ceremony, so he might also enjoy the role of a public figure in general.

And third and probably the most important thing for me, it just fits the narrative of the show better if Darius opens up to other people who are not the closest to him. Yes, found family is great, but it is not the only thing that matters. There are many instances in the series where it is shown how important community is or how its absense is damaging - and not only to the kids but to adult characters too - and i think it is a very deliberate choice, and one of the good things about toh. (And by that i don't mean - and i don't think the show means either - that every character should become an extrovert and completely change personality, or that every character should like and interact with everyone, it can mean different things).

The biggest example is Eda - she starts the show isolated, and while it's not her fault, in season 1 she is, as Luz had put it, individualistic. But through getting to know Luz, Eda not only develops better relationships within her own found family, but she goes from only agreeing to help Bump in the school because it will help Luz and being distantly playfull at best towards other kids, to trying to reach out to Hunter and to mentor Edric in season 2, and finally to opening her own school; she goes from not wanting to free the conformatorium prisoners to saving a wild witch in ER. Yes, the paternalistic conformity of the EC is shown to be bad, but personal isolation and individualism are also not good. And the same happens with others too. The Bat Queen not only opens up to the palisman adoption program but praises the good qualities of the kids when they tell their wishes. Alador improves his relationship with his children, but he also works on using his inventions for the good of the Isles in the epilogue. It is at least implied that if Camila and Luz had bigger support from the adults around them, and Camila had more friends other than her husband to help her, their life after his death would've been easier. Not as noticable with Raine because of how their arc is written (/negative), but it is at least hinted in the ER that their rebellion wasn't very sucessful because of how small it was. This is more headcanon-y, but i can easily see how Lilith's single-minded focus on finding the cure for her sister caused her to ignore the harm done by the EC. And then, of course there are villains like Belos and Odalia whose focus on the family is twisted.

So, i really don't know why Darius's development should go in a different direction and be focused on isolating rather than opening up to more people - in one way or another, it can take different forms, and doesn't mean that he can't be a private person. It doesn't even mean that he must be a public figure (although i think he might be happy in a position like that), he might just sit and write more text books. But I think getting to mentor someone like Willow (not in abominations but in general sense) or Jerbo would be good for him too.

(And tbh with the way Darius's grief over his mentor was twisted into bitterness, and how he seemed to be very much not over his broken friendship with Alador and possibly Odalia (maybe even Raine) for so long, i can see an interpretation where it would be healing for him to learn to expand his circle and through that to learn how to easier let go of his grievances and adjust to change.)

[albentelisa]

Hello! What if when Jim used the Khronosphere, he somehow ends up on Camelot Castle with Nari instead of waking in his room?

To make matters worse, he is in his half-troll body and with some help from Nari, finds out he time traveled to a year before Kanjigar falls.

Hi! I really like plans-gone-wrong kind of scenarios!

So, here the time travel is screwed, misplacing Jim and accidentally giving him the body he had at some point in time. Even the burden of knowing about the different timeline is heavy and here Jim has it even worse as there is nearly no one he knows to be by his side and giving the comfort unknowingly.

Jim tells Nari his story (without expecting her to believe him) and surprisingly she believes as the Kronisfere is something only a selected few know about.

After discussing the matter with Nari, Jim decides to go to the Trollmarket and be the onlooker until the right time comes. He still has his new amulet and Excalibur for some reason, and Nari believes that it may help to bring the change.

The trolls at the Trollmarket initially have some mixed feelings about the newcomer, but Jim quickly wins their hearts. He becomes Blinky's assistant at his library. Jim doesn't reveal his amulet though as he isn't sure how trolls will react to it. He also hides his origin, inventing a fake backstory about being from New Jersey.

The first complication starts when Jim realizes that he has bonded with Kanjigar too much and simply cannot let him die now (not to mention that because of Jim's intervention, Draal and Kanjigar finally manage to talk and go back to normal father-son relationship).

Jim's plan ends up to be saving Kanjigar and becoming his helper while trying to make everything work. The thing is - it doesn't work as planned as Jim miscalculates the supposed date of Kanjigar's death (it happens a day earlier).

And there is another thing Jim hasn't considered (or more like deliberately omitted thinking about it) - namely, his own human life. There is only one Jim in this timeline, so from humans' point of view, Jim Lake disappeared a year ago.

Both Barbara and Toby are devastated, never giving up on finding Jim. Strickler is upset too, but unlike Toby and Barbara, he believes that Jim is dead (between Bular, other changelings, and goblins, there are too many possible suspects who love human flesh too much). Strickler meets Barbara when she comes to the school looking for clues. Initially, he helps her with the investigation out of concern that she might stumble upon the supernatural, but gradually falls for her. Barbara starts to have feelings for Walter too and feels guilty for finding her personal happiness while Jim is not around.

Toby, on the other hand, gets close to Eli and starts believing in creeps, suspecting that those might be the reason for Jim's disappearance. Toby tries to stay positive, but deep inside he wonders if his best friend is still alive.

Toby and Eli snoop around a lot. Steve tries to follow them one day for a nasty prank - and ends up learning about the supernatural stuff too. He's still mean to both Toby and Eli, but joins them in their investigation (he is a self-proclaimed leader).

Those investigations lead the boys to the location of Kanjigar's death and Toby picks up the amulet. When Jim discovers that, he is devastated (even though it was his initial plan to have Toby as the Trollhunter). Jim comes to Toby's house together with Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, hoping to be a secret helper.

Toby, however, finds out Jim's true identity really fast. Jim has no choice but to confess, though he omits the time travel part and tells Toby he has no idea why he transformed one day. For now, Toby promises to keep it secret, even though he thinks that Jim should at least tell his mom he's fine.

Eli and Steve become a part of the team early on as Toby kinda drifts away from their previous activities after becoming the Trollhunter and they start investigating why which leads to them discovering everything. Eli is obviously excited to learn more about 'creeps', but Steve is annoyed that he isn't the chosen one. He grows a better person only after getting into several troubles and being saved by Toby and Jim.

Ironically, Steve is the second one to learn Jim's true identity and the first one who finds out about Jim's amulet as Jim is forced to use it to save him. After this, Jim tells the entire truth to his team (which consists of Toby, Eli, Steve, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, Draal, and Vendel by that point).

There's also an issue regarding the situation with Enrique and his potential kidnapping, and Jim patrols near Claire's house hoping to prevent it. However, he doesn't know that the switch has already happened in this timeline (as Strickler discovered Nomura's Snatch earlier and used it to get himself another subordinate). Claire also starts to notice oddities with her brother earlier, which leads her to discovery of changelings' existence. She lands herself in trouble as she has discovered Strickler's true identity, but as Strickler prefers not to have another misterious disappearance, he just manages to silence her with blackmail. Strickler also uses Claire to investigate who is the human Trollhunter as he himself has no idea.

Claire accidentally notices Jim who is roaming near her house. Initially, she thinks he's one of the bad guys (as she has no idea there are good trolls and assume that all of them are on the same side as NotEnrique and Strickler). That is how Jim learns that he's failed to prevent another one of events he would rather avoid and Claire realizes that not every troll is evil. She propose the alliance and suggests leaking info on Strickler to Jim's team. While Jim is slightly reluctant at first (not wanting to endanger her life needlessly), he remembers that Claire is competent and smart enough so her plan should work.

Claire, however, tries to go beyond her initial plan and ends captured. Strickler uses her as the bait to lure the Trollhunter. There's the clash between the two sides. Jim fights Strickler, but (obviously) refuse to kill him, so Strickler escapes. Meanwhile, the rest of the team deals with Bular and Nomura. Bular is killed, and Nomura is captured.

While Strickler is out of Arcadia, and the team is planing entering the Darklands to save Enrique, Jim decides to contact Douxie and recruit him to the team. Douxie agrees after learning about everything and starts to teach Claire.

Jim isn't that worried about Strickler most likely freeing Angor as his plan is to have a proper talk with his teacher and set everything straight. Besides, Jim is sure that Strickler won't do anything dumb like using the binding spell in this timeline (as he has no idea that the half-troll who defeated him is Jim).

However, Jim hasn't considered that Strickler feels cornered and rather paranoid because Gunmar won't be kind to him and he has no tight bonds with the current Trollhunter Toby. Strickler believes that he is on his own now - and there's nothing to lose, so he is even more hostile and manipulative than in the original timeline, but it also leads to more missteps - including Angor getting free on his own and Barbara discovering Walter's secret.

Angor is deadset on killing Strickler, and only Jim's involvement stops him. Angor agrees that now that he's free, he has no reason to act like a villain and leaves to sort his feelings. Strickler is indebted to Jim though he still has no idea why this odd youngling has saved him. Jim has no choice but to tell him everything in hope to earn his trust.

Barbara is another person who figures Jim's identity herself. Initially, she is seriously upset that her son hasn't come to her once the transformation happened, but she forgives Jim eventually.

Now, that everyone is together in this, there is some thorough planning regarding the mission to the Darklands. After all, Enrique isn't the only one they will save, but other familiars too. Besides, they plan to talk to Dictatious and make him remember how he used to be (Blinky already knows about the situation and had enough time to make peace in his mind with this fact).

Strickler contacts other members of the Janus Orders (those who he believes to be willing to change sides) and warns them that they will lose their familiars soon. However, he misgudges some and those find the way to contact Gunmar and warn him too. Obviously, Gunmar doesn't care about the changelings, but for him it looks like the perfect opportunity to escape. He also has an ally in Usurna - and it turns out that some trolls at the Trollmarket would rather pick Gunmar's side too.

So, when the team marches into the Darklands, there is a riot at the Trollmarket and Vendel is imprisoned. The Trollhunters seemingly meet no resistance at the Darklands (minus several Gumm-Gumms and goblins) and save the familiars, but can't locate Dictatitious (as he isn't there at the moment). After some thinking, they decide to go back for now and return for the second time (as everyone is sure they have been stealthy enough).

Meanwhile, Gunmar has passed through the bridge with a good chunk of his elite forces and is greeted by his supporters who have control over the Trollmarket. So, when the Trollhunters are back from the Darklands, they get a nasty surprise. They manage to escape only because Claire summons a shadow portal (it's the first one for her in this timeline as she has learned different magic from Douxie). The lack of practice shows here and Morgana gets a link to Claire's mind.

Jim knows that Morgana can be redeemed but feels conflicted when he sees that Claire goes through the events leading to her possession for the second time (it's something he would rather prevent). Not to mention that Angor isn't that willing to forgive Morgana.

Jim contacts Nari, hoping that she might have an idea how to help Claire, but Nari admits that shadowmancy is beyond her competence (actually, beyond everyone's but shadowmancers). Jim decides to propose Morgana to possess him instead as he thinks that he might have a better resistance (spoiler: he hasn't).

Morgana uses Jim's body to come and bargain to Gunmar, reminding him about their alliance.

Meanwhile, Claire and Toby with Angor's assistance go to the shadow dimension to save Jim. On their way, Claire has a fight with Morgana and barely manages to win due to some quick thinking. Toby, Claire and Angor reach Jim and manage to break him out of the possession.

The team decide to fight Gunmar before Morgana starts the Eternal Night. The clash happens at the Trollmarket (some former members of the Janus Order, trolls from different clans and some local wizards come to help too).

After the fight is won, Jim realizes that they still need to reach Merlin and think about the further actions against the Arcane Order. And well, when Merlin is awake and learns about the time-travel, he isn't happy as he thinks that messing with the time has already lead to some horrifying consequences. He also isn't happy to learn that Jim still hopes to free Morgana and refuses to cooperate (which change nothing as Claire steals his staff).

Jim tries to talk with Morgana for the second time after she is free, trying to appeal to her former ideas about co-existence and asking if she actually wants to have the world destroyed. It works this time.

The team also contacts Aja and Krel when they arrive to the Earth, finally reuniting with the rest of the guardians and forming the united front. Together, they have less trouble dealing with Morando and later, Green Knight. Nari sees it as an opportunity to talk to Bellroc and Skrael and appeal to their common sense as the times have changed and humans proved to be able to co-exist with inhuman beings. Bellroc and Skrael are still skeptical but agree to wait and see.

As the peace is reached, Claire joins efforts with Morgana in the attempt to find the solution for Jim (and to some extent all the changelings who changed sides) to change forms and be able to enjoy human life.

[togglessymposium]

I feel like theodicy is the place that (post-Plato? post-Zoroaster?) Abrahamic religions tend to really fail as systems of thought.

Like, spiritualism in general tends to be unpersuasive as a question of fact- there's simply no real empirical support for it, even though the construction itself is often powerfully evocative and beautiful. But the matter of evil in Christianity, Islam, Mormonism, etc. is something else, a place where this subset of religious doctrines just has visible and painful problems on its own merits. It's not just that I don't accept the factual claims- it's that the arguments don't add up at all. Theodicy is the crux where you have to fundamentally choose between doctrinal fidelity and the pursuit of truth, because it's where the doctrine is facially, deductively inconsistent and wrong.

At the end of the day, you just can't propose a flawless and omnipotent designer of the cosmos while simultaneously making evil a centerpiece of your analysis. You can be Manichean, and have evil arise from not-God or from some limit God has. You can assert that evil doesn't exist, though that can be tricky: Plato's evil-as-absence thing was largely unsuccessful as an attempt, both because positive evils like pain are regular features of human experience, and because pure deprivation as an ontology of evil still doesn't solve the theodicy problem. But what you cannot do is assert that the foundation of the cosmos is a perfect and all powerful entity incapable of error, and also that evil exists. The toddler's hand is well and truly caught in the cookie jar.

Most forms of modern Christianity and Mormonism try to use free will to thread the needle; mainstream Islam I think is a bit more Leibnizean, though it still leans hard on human culpability. But you can't actually do this! The claim, of course, is to say that the setting of the cosmos is perfectly good, that human volition itself is also perfectly good, but that volition has the special quality of sometimes (though not intrinsically) producing evil, which we all then have to deal with. But there's nothing in free will that actually makes it a suitable solution to this problem. The deity is necessarily extratemporal, and in that frame, volition lacks the special properties it would need to hold this weight; when you can flip to the end of the book any time you like, there's no such thing as indeterminism. Every human choice has one and exactly one result, just as with any other domain of reality; free will, like gravity and electromagnetism, is a process with wholly knowable outcomes. Hence, 'free will' is (in the context of monotheism) a purely linguistic construction that means only 'the consequences of this process are not God's fault.' It has no properties other than the shift in culpability itself, no proposed mechanism or relationship to other phenomena, no inherent virtues that can be explained in terms of any moral system. It's an entirely circular argument, a way to credit God for very tall apple trees but blame somebody else for the invention of applesauce.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Chapter IV. Second Period. — Machinery.

2. — Machinery’s contradiction. — Origin of capital and wages.

From the very fact that machinery diminishes the workman’s toil, it abridges and diminishes labor, the supply of which thus grows greater from day to day and the demand less. Little by little, it is true, the reduction in prices causing an increase in consumption, the proportion is restored and the laborer set at work again: but as industrial improvements steadily succeed each other and continually tend to substitute mechanical operations for the labor of man, it follows that there is a constant tendency to cut off a portion of the service and consequently to eliminate laborers from production. Now, it is with the economic order as with the spiritual order: outside of the church there is no salvation; outside of labor there is no subsistence. Society and nature, equally pitiless, are in accord in the execution of this new decree.

“When a new machine, or, in general, any process whatever that expedites matters,” says J. B. Say, “replaces any human labor already employed, some of the industrious arms, whose services are usefully supplanted, are left without work. A new machine, therefore, replaces the labor of a portion of the laborers, but does not diminish the amount of production, for, if it did, it would not be adopted; it displaces revenue. But the ultimate advantage is wholly on the side of machinery, for, if abundance of product and lessening of cost lower the venal value, the consumer — that is, everybody — will benefit thereby.”

Say’s optimism is infidelity to logic and to facts. The question here is not simply one of a small number of accidents which have happened during thirty centuries through the introduction of one, two, or three machines; it is a question of a regular, constant, and general phenomenon. After revenue has been displaced as Say says, by one machine, it is then displaced by another, and again by another, and always by another, as long as any labor remains to be done and any exchanges remain to be effected. That is the light in which the phenomenon must be presented and considered: but thus, it must be admitted, its aspect changes singularly. The displacement of revenue, the suppression of labor and wages, is a chronic, permanent, indelible plague, a sort of cholera which now appears wearing the features of Gutenberg, now assumes those of Arkwright; here is called Jacquard, there James Watt or Marquis de Jouffroy. After carrying on its ravages for a longer or shorter time under one form, the monster takes another, and the economists, who think that he has gone, cry out: “It was nothing!” Tranquil and satisfied, provided they insist with all the weight of their dialectics on the positive side of the question, they close their eyes to its subversive side, notwithstanding which, when they are spoken to of poverty, they again begin their sermons upon the improvidence and drunkenness of laborers.

In 1750, — M. Dunoyer makes the observation, and it may serve as a measure of all lucubrations of the same sort, — “in 1750 the population of the duchy of Lancaster was 300,000 souls. In 1801, thanks to the development of spinning machines, this population was 672,000 souls. In 1831 it was 1,336,000 souls. Instead of the 40,000 workmen whom the cotton industry formerly employed, it now employs, since the invention of machinery, 1,500,000.”

M. Dunoyer adds that at the time when the number of workmen employed in this industry increased in so remarkable a manner, the price of labor rose one hundred and fifty per cent. Population, then, having simply followed industrial progress, its increase has been a normal and irreproachable fact, — what do I say? — a happy fact, since it is cited to the honor and glory of the development of machinery. But suddenly M. Dunoyer executes an about-face: this multitude of spinning-machines soon being out of work, wages necessarily declined; the population which the machines had called forth found itself abandoned by the machines, at which M. Dunoyer declares: Abuse of marriage is the cause of poverty.

English commerce, in obedience to the demand of the immense body of its patrons, summons workmen from all directions, and encourages marriage; as long as labor is abundant, marriage is an excellent thing, the effects of which they are fond of quoting in the interest of machinery; but, the patronage fluctuating, as soon as work and wages are not to be had, they denounce the abuse of marriage, and accuse laborers of improvidence. Political economy — that is, proprietary despotism — can never be in the wrong: it must be the proletariat.

The example of printing has been cited many a time, always to sustain the optimistic view. The number of persons supported today by the manufacture of books is perhaps a thousand times larger than was that of the copyists and illuminators prior to Gutenberg’s time; therefore, they conclude with a satisfied air, printing has injured nobody. An infinite number of similar facts might be cited, all of them indisputable, but not one of which would advance the question a step. Once more, no one denies that machines have contributed to the general welfare; but I affirm, in regard to this incontestable fact, that the economists fall short of the truth when they advance the absolute statement that the simplification of processes has nowhere resulted in a diminution of the number of hands employed in any industry whatever. What the economists ought to say is that machinery, like the division of labor, in the present system of social economy is at once a source of wealth and a permanent and fatal cause of misery.

In 1836, in a Manchester mill, nine frames, each having three hundred and twenty-four spindles, were tended by four spinners. Afterwards the mules were doubled in length, which gave each of the nine six hundred and eighty spindles and enabled two men to tend them.

There we have the naked fact of the elimination of the workman by the machine. By a simple device three workmen out of four are evicted; what matters it that fifty years later, the population of the globe having doubled and the trade of England having quadrupled, new machines will be constructed and the English manufacturers will reemploy their workmen? Do the economists mean to point to the increase of population as one of the benefits of machinery? Let them renounce, then, the theory of Malthus, and stop declaiming against the excessive fecundity of marriage.

They did not stop there: soon a new mechanical improvement enabled a single worker to do the work that formerly occupied four.

A new three-fourths reduction of manual work: in all, a reduction of human labor by fifteen-sixteenths.

A Bolton manufacturer writes: “The elongation of the mules of our frames permits us to employ but twenty-six spinners where we employed thirty-five in 1837.”

Another decimation of laborers: one out of four is a victim.

These facts are taken from the “Revue Economique” of 1842; and there is nobody who cannot point to similar ones. I have witnessed the introduction of printing machines, and I can say that I have seen with my own eyes the evil which printers have suffered thereby. During the fifteen or twenty years that the machines have been in use a portion of the workmen have gone back to composition, others have abandoned their trade, and some have died of misery: thus laborers are continually crowded back in consequence of industrial innovations. Twenty years ago eighty canal-boats furnished the navigation service between Beaucaire and Lyons; a score of steam-packets has displaced them all. Certainly commerce is the gainer; but what has become of the boating-population? Has it been transferred from the boats to the packets? No: it has gone where all superseded industries go, — it has vanished.

For the rest, the following documents, which I take from the same source, will give a more positive idea of the influence of industrial improvements upon the condition of the workers.

The average weekly wages, at Manchester, is ten shillings. Out of four hundred and fifty workers there are not forty who earn twenty shillings.

The author of the article is careful to remark that an Englishman consumes five times as much as a Frenchman; this, then, is as if a French workingman had to live on two francs and a half a week.

“Edinburgh Review,” 1835: “To a combination of workmen (who did not want to see their wages reduced) we owe the mule of Sharpe and Roberts of Manchester; and this invention has severely punished the imprudent unionists.”

Punished should merit punishment. The invention of Sharpe and Roberts of Manchester was bound to result from the situation; the refusal of the workmen to submit to the reduction asked of them was only its determining occasion. Might not one infer, from the air of vengeance affected by the “Edinburgh Review,” that machines have a retroactive effect?

An English manufacturer: “The insubordination of our workmen has given us the idea of dispensing with them. We have made and stimulated every imaginable effort of the mind to replace the service of men by tools more docile, and we have achieved our object. Machinery has delivered capital from the oppression of labor. Wherever we still employ a man, we do so only temporarily, pending the invention for us of some means of accomplishing his work without him.”

What a system is that which leads a business man to think with delight that society will soon be able to dispense with men! Machinery has delivered capital from the oppression of labor! That is exactly as if the cabinet should undertake to deliver the treasury from the oppression of the taxpayers. Fool! though the workmen cost you something, they are your customers: what will you do with your products, when, driven away by you, they shall consume them no longer? Thus machinery, after crushing the workmen, is not slow in dealing employers a counter-blow; for, if production excludes consumption, it is soon obliged to stop itself.

During the fourth quarter of 1841 four great failures, happening in an English manufacturing city, threw seventeen hundred and twenty people on the street.

These failures were caused by over-production, — that is, by an inadequate market, or the distress of the people. What a pity that machinery cannot also deliver capital from the oppression of consumers! What a misfortune that machines do not buy the fabrics which they weave! The ideal society will be reached when commerce, agriculture, and manufactures can proceed without a man upon earth!

In a Yorkshire parish for nine months the operatives have been working but two days a week.

Machines!

At Geston two factories valued at sixty thousand pounds sterling have been sold for twenty-six thousand. They produced more than they could sell.

Machines!

In 1841 the number of children under thirteen years of age engaged in manufactures diminishes, because children over thirteen take their place.

Machines! The adult workman becomes an apprentice, a child, again: this result was foreseen from the phase of the division of labor, during which we saw the quality of the workman degenerate in the ratio in which industry was perfected.

In his conclusion the journalist makes this reflection: “Since 1836 there has been a retrograde movement in the cotton industry”; — that is, it no longer keeps up its relation with other industries: another result foreseen from the theory of the proportionality of values.

Today workmen’s coalitions and strikes seem to have stopped throughout England, and the economists rightly rejoice over this return to order, — let us say even to common sense. But because laborers henceforth — at least I cherish the hope — will not add the misery of their voluntary periods of idleness to the misery which machines force upon them, does it follow that the situation is changed? And if there is no change in the situation, will not the future always be a deplorable copy of the past?

The economists love to rest their minds on pictures of public felicity: it is by this sign principally that they are to be recognized, and that they estimate each other. Nevertheless there are not lacking among them, on the other hand, moody and sickly imaginations, ever ready to offset accounts of growing prosperity with proofs of persistent poverty.

M. Theodore Fix thus summed up the general situation in December, 1844:

The food supply of nations is no longer exposed to those terrible disturbances caused by scarcities and famines, so frequent up to the beginning of the nineteenth century. The variety of agricultural growths and improvements has abolished this double scourge almost absolutely. The total wheat crop in France in 1791 was estimated at about 133,000,000 bushels, which gave, after deducting seed, 2.855 bushels to each inhabitant. In 1840 the same crop was estimated at 198,590,000 bushels, or 2.860 bushels to each individual, the area of cultivated surface being almost the same as before the Revolution.... The rate of increase of manufactured goods has been at least as high as that of food products; and we are justified in saying that the mass of textile fabrics has more than doubled and perhaps tripled within fifty years. The perfecting of technical processes has led to this result....

Since the beginning of the century the average duration of life has increased by two or three years, — an undeniable sign of greater comfort, or, if you will, a diminution of poverty.

Within twenty years the amount of indirect revenue, without any burdensome change in legislation, has risen from $40,000,000 francs to 720,000,000, — a symptom of economic, much more than of fiscal, progress.

On January 1, 1844, the deposit and consignment office owed the savings banks 351,500,000 francs, and Paris figured in this sum for 105,000,000. Nevertheless the development of the institution has taken place almost wholly within twelve years, and it should be noticed that the 351,500,000 francs now due to the savings banks do not constitute the entire mass of economies effected, since at a given time the capital accumulated is disposed of otherwise.... In 1843, out of 320,000 workmen and 80,000 house-servants living in the capital, 90,000 workmen have deposited in the savings banks 2,547,000 francs, and 34,000 house-servants 1,268,000 francs.

All these facts are entirely true, and the inference to be drawn from them in favor of machines is of the exactest, — namely, that they have indeed given a powerful impetus to the general welfare. But the facts with which we shall supplement them are no less authentic, and the inference to be drawn from these against machines will be no less accurate, — to wit, that they are a continual cause of pauperism. I appeal to the figures of M. Fix himself.

Out of 320,000 workmen and 80,000 house-servants residing in Paris, there are 230,000 of the former and 46,000 of the latter — a total of 276,000 — who do not deposit in the savings banks. No one would dare pretend that these are 276,000 spendthrifts and ne’er-do-weels who expose themselves to misery voluntarily. Now, as among the very ones who make the savings there are to be found poor and inferior persons for whom the savings bank is but a respite from debauchery and misery, we may conclude that, out of all the individuals living by their labor, nearly three-fourths either are imprudent, lazy, and depraved, since they do not deposit in the savings banks, or are too poor to lay up anything. There is no other alternative. But common sense, to say nothing of charity, permits no wholesale accusation of the laboring class: it is necessary, therefore, to throw the blame back upon our economic system. How is it that M. Fix did not see that his figures accused themselves?

They hope that, in time, all, or almost all, laborers will deposit in the savings banks. Without awaiting the testimony of the future, we may test the foundations of this hope immediately.

According to the testimony of M. Vee, mayor of the fifth arrondissement of Paris, “the number of needy families inscribed upon the registers of the charity bureaus is 30,000, — which is equivalent to 65,000 individuals.” The census taken at the beginning of 1846 gave 88,474. And poor families not inscribed, — how many are there of those? As many. Say, then, 180,000 people whose poverty is not doubtful, although not official. And all those who live in straitened circumstances, though keeping up the appearance of comfort, — how many are there of those? Twice as many, — a total of 360,000 persons, in Paris, who are somewhat embarrassed for means.

“They talk of wheat,” cries another economist, M. Louis Leclerc, “but are there not immense populations which go without bread? Without leaving our own country, are there not populations which live exclusively on maize, buckwheat, chestnuts?”

M. Leclerc denounces the fact: let us interpret it. If, as there is no doubt, the increase of population is felt principally in the large cities, — that is, at those points where the most wheat is consumed, — it is clear that the average per head may have increased without any improvement in the general condition. There is no such liar as an average.

“They talk,” continues the same writer, “of the increase of indirect consumption. Vain would be the attempt to acquit Parisian adulteration: it exists; it has its masters, its adepts, its literature, its didactic and classic treatises.... France possessed exquisite wines; what has been done with them? What has become of this splendid wealth? Where are the treasures created since Probus by the national genius? And yet, when one considers the excesses to which wine gives rise wherever it is dear, wherever it does not form a part of the regular life of the people; when in Paris, capital of the kingdom of good wines, one sees the people gorging themselves with I know not what, — stuff that is adulterated, sophisticated, sickening, and sometimes execrable, — and well-to-do persons drinking at home or accepting without a word, in famous restaurants, so-called wines, thick, violet-colored, and insipid, flat, and miserable enough to make the poorest Burgundian peasant shudder, — can one honestly doubt that alcoholic liquids are one of the most imperative needs of our nature?

I quote this passage at length, because it sums up in relation to a special case all that could be said upon the inconveniences of machinery. To the people it is with wine as with fabrics, and generally with all goods and merchandise created for the consumption of the poor. It is always the same deduction: to reduce by some process or other the cost of manufacture, in order, first, to maintain advantageously competition with more fortunate or richer rivals; second, to serve the vast numbers of plundered persons who cannot disregard price simply because the quality is good. Produced in the ordinary ways, wine is too expensive for the mass of consumers; it is in danger of remaining in the cellars of the retailers. The manufacturer of wines gets around the difficulty: unable to introduce machinery into the cultivation of the vine, he finds a means, with the aid of some accompaniments, of placing the precious liquid within the reach of all. Certain savages, in their periods of scarcity, eat earth; the civilized workman drinks water. Malthus was a great genius.

As far as the increase of the average duration of life is concerned, I recognize the fact, but at the same time I declare the observation incorrect. Let us explain that. Suppose a population of ten million souls: if, from whatever cause you will, the average life should increase five years for a million individuals, mortality continuing its ravages at the same rate as before among the nine other millions, it would be found, on distributing this increase among the whole, that on an average six months had been added to the life of each individual. It is with the average length of life, the so-called indicator of average comfort, as with average learning: the level of knowledge does not cease to rise, which by no means alters the fact that there are today in France quite as many barbarians as in the days of Francois I. The charlatans who had railroad speculation in view made a great noise about the importance of the locomotive in the circulation of ideas; and the economists, always on the lookout for civilized stupidities, have not failed to echo this nonsense. As if ideas, in order to spread, needed locomotives! What, then, prevents ideas from circulating from the Institute to the Faubourgs Saint-Antoine and Saint-Marceau, in the narrow and wretched streets of Old Paris and the Temple Quarter, everywhere, in short, where dwells this multitude even more destitute of ideas than of bread? How happens it that between a Parisian and a Parisian, in spite of the omnibus and the letter-carrier, the distance is three times greater today than in the fourteenth century?

The ruinous influence of machinery on social economy and the condition of the laborers is exercised in a thousand ways, all of which are bound together and reciprocally labelled: cessation of labor, reduction of wages, over-production, obstruction of the market, alteration and adulteration of products, failures, displacement of laborers, degeneration of the race, and, finally, diseases and death.

M. Théodore Fix has remarked himself that in the last fifty years the average stature of man, in France, has diminished by a considerable fraction of an inch. This observation is worth his previous one: upon whom does this diminution take effect?

In a report read to the Academy of Moral Sciences on the results of the law of March 22, 1841, M. Leon Faucher expressed himself thus:

Young workmen are pale, weak, short in stature, and slow to think as well as to move. At fourteen or fifteen years they seem no more developed than children of nine or ten years in the normal state. As for their intellectual and moral development, there are some to be found who, at the age of thirteen, have no notion of God, who have never heard of their duties, and whose first school of morality was a prison.

That is what M. Léon Faucher has seen, to the great displeasure of M. Charles Dupin, and this state of things he declares that the law of March 22 is powerless to remedy. And let us not get angry over this impotence of the legislator: the evil arises from a cause as necessary for us as the sun; and in the path upon which we have entered, anger of any kind, like palliatives of any kind, could only make our situation worse. Yes, while science and industry are making such marvellous progress, it is a necessity, unless civilization’s centre of gravity should suddenly change, that the intelligence and comfort of the proletariat be diminished; while the lives of the well-to-do classes grow longer and easier, it is inevitable that those of the needy should grow harder and shorter. This is established in the writings of the best — I mean, the most optimistic — thinkers.

According to M. de Morogues, 7,500,000 men in France have only ninety-one francs a year to spend, 25 centimes a day. Cing sous! cing sous! (Five cents! five cents!). There is something prophetic, then, in this odious refrain.

In England (not including Scotland and Ireland) the poor-rate was: 1801. £4,078,891 for a population of 8,872,980 1818. £7,870,801 ” ” ” ” 11,978,875 1833. £8,000,000 ” ” ” ” 14,000,000

The progress of poverty, then, has been more rapid than that of population; in face of this fact, what becomes of the hypotheses of Malthus? And yet it is indisputable that during the same period the average comfort increased: what, then, do statistics signify?

The death-rate for the first arrondissement of Paris is one to every fifty-two inhabitants, and for the twelfth one to every twenty-six. Now, the latter contains one needy person to every seven inhabitants, while the former has only one to every twenty-eight. That does not prevent the average duration of life, even in Paris, from increasing, as M. Fix has very correctly observed.

At Mulhouse the probabilities of average life are twenty-nine years for children of the well-to-do class and TWO years for those of the workers; in 1812 the average life in the same locality was twenty-five years, nine months, and twelve days, while in 1827 it was not over twenty-one years and nine months. And yet throughout France the average life is longer. What does this mean?

M. Blanqui, unable to explain so much prosperity and so much poverty at once, cries somewhere: “Increased production does not mean additional wealth.... Poverty, on the contrary, becomes the wider spread in proportion to the concentration of industries. There must be some radical vice in a system which guarantees no security either to capital or labor, and which seems to multiply the embarrass-ments of producers at the same time that it forces them to multiply their products.”

There is no radical vice here. What astonishes M. Blanqui is simply that of which the Academy to which he belongs has asked a determination, — namely, the oscillations of the economic pendulum, VALUE, beating alternately and in regular time good and evil, until the hour of the universal equation shall strike. If I may be permitted another comparison, humanity in its march is like a column of soldiers, who, starting in the same step and at the same moment to the measured beating of the drum, gradually lose their distances. The whole body advances, but the distance from head to tail grows ever longer; and it is a necessary effect of the movement that there should be some laggards and stragglers.

But it is necessary to penetrate still farther into the antinomy. Machines promised us an increase of wealth; they have kept their word, but at the same time endowing us with an increase of poverty. They promised us liberty; I am going to prove that they have brought us slavery.

I have stated that the determination of value, and with it the tribulations of society, began with the division of industries, without which there could be no exchange, or wealth, or progress. The period through which we are now passing — that of machinery — is distinguished by a special characteristic, — WAGES.

Wages issued in a direct line from the employment of machinery, — that is, to give my thought the entire generality of expression which it calls for, from the economic fiction by which capital becomes an agent of production. Wages, in short, coming after the division of labor and exchange, is the necessary correlative of the theory of the reduction of costs, in whatever way this reduction may be accomplished. This genealogy is too interesting to be passed by without a few words of explanation.

The first, the simplest, the most powerful of machines is the workshop.

Division simply separates the various parts of labor, leaving each to devote himself to the specialty best suited to his tastes: the workshop groups the laborers according to the relation of each part to the whole. It is the most elementary form of the balance of values, undiscoverable though the economists suppose this to be. Now, through the workshop, production is going to increase, and at the same time the deficit.

Somebody discovered that, by dividing production into its various parts and causing each to be executed by a separate workman, he would obtain a multiplication of power, the product of which would be far superior to the amount of labor given by the same number of workmen when labor is not divided.

Grasping the thread of this idea, he said to himself that, by forming a permanent group of laborers assorted with a view to his special purpose, he would produce more steadily, more abundantly, and at less cost. It is not indispensable, however, that the workmen should be gathered into one place: the existence of the workshop does not depend essentially upon such contact. It results from the relation and proportion of the different tasks and from the common thought directing them. In a word, concentration at one point may offer its advantages, which are not to be neglected; but that is not what constitutes the workshop

This, then, is the proposition which the speculator makes to those whose collaboration he desires: I guarantee you a perpetual market for your products, if you will accept me as purchaser or middle-man. The bargain is so clearly advantageous that the proposition cannot fail of acceptance. The laborer finds in it steady work, a fixed price, and security; the employer, on the other hand, will find a readier sale for his goods, since, producing more advantageously, he can lower the price; in short, his profits will be larger because of the mass of his investments. All, even to the public and the magistrate, will congratulate the employer on having added to the social wealth by his combinations, and will vote him a reward.

But, in the first place, whoever says reduction of expenses says reduction of services, not, it is true, in the new shop, but for the workers at the same trade who are left outside, as well as for many others whose accessory services will be less needed in future. Therefore every establishment of a workshop corresponds to an eviction of workers: this assertion, utterly contradictory though it may appear, is as true of the workshop as of a machine.

The economists admit it: but here they repeat their eternal refrain that, after a lapse of time, the demand for the product having increased in proportion to the reduction of price, labor in turn will come finally to be in greater demand than ever. Undoubtedly, WITH TIME, the equilibrium will be restored; but, I must add again, the equilibrium will be no sooner restored at this point than it will be disturbed at another, because the spirit of invention never stops, any more than labor. Now, what theory could justify these perpetual hecatombs?” When we have reduced the number of toilers,” wrote Sismondi, “to a fourth or a fifth of what it is at present, we shall need only a fourth or a fifth as many priests, physicians, etc. When we have cut them off altogether, we shall be in a position to dispense with the human race.” And that is what really would happen if, in order to put the labor of each machine in proportion to the needs of consumption, — that is, to restore the balance of values continually destroyed, — it were not necessary to continually create new machines, open other markets, and consequently multiply services and displace other arms. So that on the one hand industry and wealth, on the other population and misery, advance, so to speak, in procession, one always dragging the other after it.

I have shown the contractor, at the birth of industry, negotiating on equal terms with his comrades, who have since become his workmen. It is plain, in fact, that this original equality was bound to disappear through the advantageous position of the master and the dependence of the wage-workers. In vain does the law assure to each the right of enterprise, as well as the faculty to labor alone and sell one’s products directly. According to the hypothesis, this last resource is impracticable, since it was the object of the workshop to annihilate isolated labor. And as for the right to take the plough, as they say, and go at speed, it is the same in manufactures as in agriculture; to know how to work is nothing, it is necessary to arrive at the right time; the shop, as well as the land, is to the first comer. When an establishment has had the leisure to develop itself, enlarge its foundations, ballast itself with capital, and assure itself a body of patrons, what can the workman who has only his arms do against a power so superior? Hence it was not by an arbitrary act of sovereign power or by fortuitous and brutal usurpation that the guilds and masterships were established in the Middle Ages: the force of events had created them long before the edicts of kings could have given them legal consecration; and, in spite of the reform of ’89, we see them reestablishing themselves under our eyes with an energy a hundred times more formidable. Abandon labor to its own tendencies, and the subjection of three-fourths of the human race is assured.

But this is not all. The machine, or the workshop, after having degraded the laborer by giving him a master, completes his degeneracy by reducing him from the rank of artisan to that of common workman.

Formerly the population on the banks of the Saone and Rhone was largely made up of watermen, thoroughly fitted for the conduct of canal-boats or row-boats. Now that the steam-tug is to be found almost everywhere, most of the boatmen, finding it impossible to get a living at their trade, either pass three-fourths of their life in idleness, or else become stokers.

If not misery, then degradation: such is the last alternative which machinery offers to the workman. For it is with a machine as with a piece of artillery: the captain excepted, those whom it occupies are servants, slaves.

Since the establishment of large factories, a multitude of little industries have disappeared from the domestic hearth: does any one believe that the girls who work for ten and fifteen cents have as much intelligence as their ancestors?

“After the establishment of the railway from Paris to Saint Germain,” M. Dunoyer tells us, “there were established between Pecq and a multitude of places in the more or less immediate vicinity such a number of omnibus and stage lines that this establishment, contrary to all expectation, has considerably increased the employment of horses.”

Contrary to all expectation! It takes an economist not to expect these things. Multiply machinery, and you increase the amount of arduous and disagreeable labor to be done: this apothegm is as certain as any of those which date from the deluge. Accuse me, if you choose, of ill-will towards the most precious invention of our century, — nothing shall prevent me from saying that the principal result of railways, after the subjection of petty industry, will be the creation of a population of degraded laborers, — signalmen, sweepers, loaders, lumpers, draymen, watchmen, porters, weighers, greasers, cleaners, stokers, firemen, etc. Two thousand miles of railway will give France an additional fifty thousand serfs: it is not for such people, certainly, that M. Chevalier asks professional schools.

Perhaps it will be said that, the mass of transportation having increased in much greater proportion than the number of day-laborers, the difference is to the advantage of the railway, and that, all things considered, there is progress. The observation may even be generalized and the same argument applied to all industries.

But it is precisely out of this generality of the phenomenon that springs the subjection of laborers. Machinery plays the leading role in industry, man is secondary: all the genius displayed by labor tends to the degradation of the proletariat. What a glorious nation will be ours when, among forty millions of inhabitants, it shall count thirty-five millions of drudges, paper-scratchers, and flunkies!

With machinery and the workshop, divine right — that is, the principle of authority — makes its entrance into political economy. Capital, Mastership, Privilege, Monopoly, Loaning, Credit, Property, etc., — such are, in economic language, the various names of I know not what, but which is otherwise called Power, Authority, Sovereignty, Written Law, Revelation, Religion, God in short, cause and principle of all our miseries and all our crimes, and who, the more we try to define him, the more eludes us.

Is it, then, impossible that, in the present condition of society, the workshop with its hierarchical organization, and machinery, instead of serving exclusively the interests of the least numerous, the least industrious, and the wealthiest class, should be employed for the benefit of all?

That is what we are going to examine.

[dandelion-wings]

Do you think Sara would be good with kids?

Especially in regards to your Sara-in-Mondstadt AU, where for some reason I can’t help but imagine her being exasperatedly fond of Klee and babysitting her.

For a partial answer, have this snippet I shoved in that AU doc the other day:

Sara strongly suspects that the book the librarian found on "yokai customs" is largely the invention of some opportunistic author who wanted to profit from credulous mainlanders' lack of knowledge. "Oh, this is charming," the librarian says, turning another page. "'Each tengu guest brings unto the marriage circle a length of branch or bough, suitable to a nest, to symbolize that the marriage takes place within the flock; while the tengu bride and tengu groom bring each of them a whole bundle, chosen by hand, to symbolize that they will build their nest together and raise each other's young....'" That Sara can't swear is false. She's never attended a tengu wedding, and there seems something... *right* about bringing nesting material to one you love. But she feels an itch all down her back at the awareness of how laughable and foolish this would seem to humans. She's heard the mockery before when she's acted in a way too easily compared to the behaviors of a common crow. "I would prefer not to include that," she says, stiffly polite, just as before. "Oh? You don't want to show Jean that you'd raise her children for her?" It would be wrong for Sara to be dishonest about this. "I'm not suitable to raise human children." Or tengu children, for that matter, as this literary exploration of her people's heritage makes clear. The librarian gives her a sad smile. "Neither is Jean. All right, cutie, no sticks. Let's see what else is in here."

But for a longer answer: eventually.

Everything we see in her voicelines and especially in her teapot lines, which I presume all are meant to take place after the Inazuma AQ, suggests that now that she doesn't have Takayuki around, she is actively working on reparenting herself and improving her own social skills. I strongly suspect that's going to lead long-term to a version of Sara who can, in fact, handle children well! But right now, at the point where I have her depart for Mondstadt (or Liyue), she's simply not yet there. That's a skill she would have to develop through exposure to children, not something she possesses when she starts.

With Klee, I think she would initially have much the same reactions as Jean, for (what I headcanon to be) much the same reason--harsh correction and punishment for any misdeeds, because that's what she experienced as a child and believes to be correct. The optimistic side is that I think that, specifically because she is trying to make the changes above, I think she's in a better position than Jean* to look at what happens afterward, realizing it's not working re: changing Klee's behavior, and taking another approach. I think there's a lot of trial-and-error! I think Klee probably initially, and for a long time after, reads her as mean! But very long-term, I think I could imagine her ending up as a good tutor for Klee, in a similar position as Lisa but more able to deal with the physical end of her boundless child's energy.

*I've ranted plenty about this, but: Jean is not a good babysitter. I have some sympathy for her around it, because she's in a very shitty position here and she didn't ask for it, and I don't think she has the capacity to become a good babysitter while she's so overwhelmed with all her other responsibilities to Mondstadt. But the upshot, sympathy or not, is that she keeps doing the same thing over and over again and it does not fix the base problems involved, and she doesn't have the understanding of children or the spare time and attention to figure out what's going wrong and why, and thus what else she could do about it. Ultimately this is Alice's and probably Varka's fault, but. It's not good. Everyone is in a rough spot here but at the end of the day it's a prepubescent child getting the short end of the stick and it sucks.

In the Liyue version of the AU (both have such good but different elements, which is why they both bang around in my brain despite me making more actual writing progress on the Mondstadt one), Sara's ability to handle children grows faster, because she has help. Ningguang recognizes both her social weaknesses and her desire to repair them very quickly, and one of the ways she subtly tries to help with this is to dump Sara on Ningguang's little gang of child informants. Letting said children know that this is a job she'll pay them for, on their end, and without giving Sara responsibility for them--I can't remember who I discussed it with, but I recall that my idea for how it starts is that they throw a ball onto a roof and ask Sara to fly up and get it, and Sara, who again in this version of the AU thinks of it as forbidden to fly around people, is flustered when Ningguang encourages her to. And then to play with the kids. :> But it's fairly important here that Sara is in no way made responsible for these children! (Not that she doesn't take some on, of course, but it's not official.) She's just a fun adult whose wings can add to the variety and ease of their games, which is Ningguang's other goal here, to make her cute new wife understand that it's okay if she flies.

[theramblingsofadork]

Midnight Thought: Do you think that Dr. Starline’s obsession with video logs became a thing because he wanted to feel like he was being heard?

Like, he started doing them as a way to keep track of his progress, but as the years progressed and he remained alone and isolated— (whether purposeful or not, due to his high intellect and fascination with Eggman) — they sort of became his way to vent, and have a ‘conversation’ with someone? Despite the fact that, in essence, he was only talking to himself and a camera?

(IDW Spoilers beneath the cut.)

I first thought about this when Surge made her comment about him *apparently vlogging so extensively* that he even makes videos about what he makes for breakfast.

While it may just be the tenrec being facetious, we do see quite a few logs across the IDW comics from Starline. And while most appear to be the typical ‘talk about your plans’ shtick, there are a few moments he also has some introspective thoughts, or visibly melts down.

To me at least, it doesn’t seem to be out of the realm of possibility that if Surge isn’t making it up, Starline garnered this habit of making a lot of video logs simply due to not being able to express himself or talk to anyone. Either stemming from his childhood being shoddy—(I imagine someone with his intellect/fascination would have had a hard time making friends)—or because no one else could deal with or understand his ramblings, both good and bad.

This exchange during his and Eggman’s final battle seems to feed into the whole idea even more. Starline definitely would have rambled excitedly to his idol about his inventions, seeing as Eggman would actually be the first to understand whatever scientific jargon he was going on about, and be the most likely to respond positively.

Sadly for Starline, he would still be ignored in the one way that mattered most to him, thus feeding back into this whole unhealthy search for approval and his vlogging loop again. (Y’know, if he had made it out..)

It’s entirely possible I’m looking too much into this, and Starline just really loves the sound of his own voice. But the nuances of how they wrote him give off this whole vibe that there is a possibility of this. And if that is indeed the case, then it’s just really dang sad.

I know he’s a great, horrible™ villain whom we all love to hate, but.. gosh dang it, this platypus gives me so many feels. 😭